Maybe we were something ago
by currentlyabsent
Summary: Dean finds Casitel in his insanity difficult to bear, and he clings to the glimmers of Castiel he can find, which is the moments of sex. Angsty male on male sex, a bit of humor thrown in for good measure.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. The fiction was written with no intentions of profit whatsoever, although the profit of reviews will be very appreciated. _

___*Title inspired/lifted from lyrics of The Killers song, Show you How_

* * *

"Goddamnit, Cas, you're there, I know it, and I swear to god I'll... "

Find you. The hunter's breathless threat was left unfinished and ceased into a moan as the angel bit down onto his neck and ran a hot tongue over the pulsing wounds. He felt a scratchy jaw upon the length of his neck, and a hot muffled breath fall on his body as he stroked the angel with a rough, forceful hand. He barely stopped himself from clawing the angel's back under his drenched scrubs, but when he felt the angel's teeth set on edge on the shell of his ear; he'd involuntarily gripped the muscular folds of skin, leaving a set of white fingernail etchings. A heated moan escaped through his clenched teeth as he felt the angel bite down onto the exposed collarbone, sending an ache mixed with inane pleasure down his spine. Their cocks were already a straight rod of tension sending an electrifying throb each time they would rub against each other.

This, this, at least, was the same.

Truth be told, they never did have sex very much- Dean was afraid he might hurt the other in some unknown way, and Castiel had never quite taken up the chance to understand what it meant, the hot, torrid act of merging into one- and although Dean remembered the few days after their first time together, Castiel had never mentioned much about it. After a few days of Dean fidgeting like an obsessive girlfriend; kindly pointed out in what was meant to be a casual comment by Sam. Which of course, meant he blurted out to his older brother that he was stuttering " like a teenager who just got ditched after third-base." After much swearing on Dean's part and a few displays of the highly mature art of headslap exchange, Dean had mustered up the courage to face Castiel. The angel had responded with a tilt of the head and a deadpanned "It was... memorable." and that was it.

Truly, the angel was a work of art. One to be categorized under the genre of minimalist expressionism, no doubt.

There was no mentioning of it whatsoever afterwards, and after a few more elopes of frustrated heat, Dean was still clueless when it came to Castiel's terms on it. Although, judging from the sounds he made when Dean went down on him, it seemed like he was pretty much enjoying it- he'd plead and beg and moan in a way that was truly unholy, hotter than any girl he'd gotten his hands on. Dean was then pretty much sure that he was screwed for normal, heterosexual sex with normal human beings. The angel had spoiled it all for him.

Screw Cas and his feathery ass, making gay sex with celestial beings a necessity in life. It really wasn't fair. At least he could have left the heterosexual part. But hell, it was as if the angel had just walked into his life and had stomped all over any previously known notions of sexuality. Goddamnit.

But still, it was frustrating not to know where he actually stood on this- did it hurt him? Did he regret? Was he doing this for Dean? He didn't know. Wanting to spare a "What does it all mean? " chick-flick row with a warrior of heaven, Dean had kept his mouth shut and buried the questions, the feelings, and kept it that way- he always had. Hell, he was used to it; he'd been doing that since Dad was on the steering wheel of the Impala. But now, when Cas had lost his marbles and had a leaky faucet of a mind- this was getting way too seriously out of hand.

"Dean, Dean... "

He heard Cas calling to him, and snapped out of his murky train of thought. The angel's weight was on him, pleading his name in a hot whisper into his ear. The whisper climaxed into a gruff scream muffled into Dean's shoulder as Dean worked one, two and then five lubbed fingers into the angel. Cas let out a moan and ground down on him, placing an edged kiss onto the curve of Dean's neck. In a hot fluster, Dean was now inside Cas, feeling the angel tighten around his cock, their tongues sliding against each other in a slippery, heated twist. He came, Cas splaying over his stomach and Dean inside Cas, and it was fucking glorious.

He laid back, hot and spent. He couldn't think clearly now, his thoughts kept dissolving into a hot steam inside his head. But maybe it was better that way, it kept him from going crazy and feeling all sorts of things at once. It was like being a friggin teenager again, the things Cas did to him- affection and rage and despair and hope all in one hot mess of a package. It killed him from the inside.

Shaking his head, he glanced over at Castiel, who was fumbling with his scrubs now tangled and bunched around his legs. He closed his eyes and considered staying this way until sleep fell upon him, but felt the slick mess of cum and sweat on himself and reconsidered. Pushing himself up with a grunt, he put a hand on the angel's shoulder.

"C'mon, Cas. We can't sleep in this smut. We look like a whorehouse on discount hours."

"What are we doing?"

"I thought we- well, at least, I, could do with a shower."

"A shower."

Like the rain? The angel looked puzzled, and gave him his trademark tilt. Well, that one's not going anywhere, Dean noted with a strange mixture of contempt and satisfaction.

"You wash yourself, Cas. With soap and water. "

Or you could just mojo yourself clean, whatever rocks your boat, he huffed, a note too fast than his usual pace. He was now having second thoughts about cramming his naked ass inside the shower with a batshit crazy angel. He peered up at Cas, who, to his surprise, was smiling- one of those dewy eyed smiles that he seemed to be growing so adept at these days.

"A cleansing ritual. I'm concerned that the chemicals used during the process might cause harm to the Earth, but the notion sounds very agreeable."

" Yeah, so, you coming?"

"But I have never done this before, and I will require guidance."

Looking at the angel's sincere, tired-looking eyes, Dean swore to himself. Well, we've already done the gay butt-sex, so what harm could a little shared shower be? It'd be like a lamp in noon.

"Yeah, we're already gay as we can get. Take off those scrubs and get in here."

"Yes, I agree, the fornication was very enjoyable."

Castiel rather cheerfully replied as he pulled on the strings of his scrub pants. Dean sighed. Cas was now pulling off his scrubs, humming something to himself- something Dean noted with a mild alarm, since he wasn't even aware that Cas was even capable of humming. But there he was, humming an off-tune note of god knows what. He made an effort to ditch the thought as he turned on the shower. Soon, they were there, as awkward it may seem- Personal Hygiene 101 in a cramped shower for two grown men. Dean tried not t o think too hard about it. He rinsed off the remains of "fornication," and grabbed a shower towel, putting soap onto it. He demonstrated rubbing the towel onto the body, and the angel followed with a solemn, watchful eye. He gave the towel to Cas- You're on your own, man, crotch cleansing is somewhere I'd not rather explore- and reached for the shampoo bottle. It was one of Sam's girly ones, but he didn't have a choice. Dean internally screamed as he pumped a gloop of "Citrus Breeze" onto his hands.

" 'kay Cas, get down a bit. "

Castiel obediently lowered his head, and Dean went to work lathering his rather stiff hair. How he even managed to get this into that massive bedhead of his, he couldn't make out.

"It smells like fruit."

"Yeah, it's Sammy's stuff, so it smells like bitchface. Sorry."

"Odd. "

The angel remarked casually, his gaze not stopped from the dripping soapsuds on his hair. Dean stared.

"We've never done this before."

"Well, you mojo-ed yourself out before we ever got a chance to. "

Castiel looked up at him, his hair wet and his eyes so sincere, bearing none of the intense, solemn seriousness thatwas always so present in the past. Why did it have to hurt so much? Dean drizzling the shower head onto Cas's already sufficiently wet body, making the angel close his eyes and take away that puppy-eyed look.

"You were never much of a pillow-talk guy. Hell, I'm not either. "

Cas silently nodded in agreement, and true to Dean's words, there was no more talk while they dried themselves off and put on their clothes. Cas's scrubs were in a sad state of disorder, so Dean lent him a pair of his own boxers and T-shirt, and managed to coax him from putting on the trench coat into bed. They laid down on the bed, Cas facing the ceiling and him turning his back to him. A voice was nagging through his head- _you think it's the sex, but it's not any of that- you're just grasping at the pieces, aren't you? Your angel's shattered to bits, and you're pawing at the pieces left behind... Hell lot of good that'll do for you both. _

It was like goddamn Lucifer was stuck inside his head, prodding all the bits that hurt. Honestly, it was all too damn much. But he knew, he knew that the voice was right- the'd fucked, and it certainly wasn't good, innocent fucking that came from the heat of two bodies- there was something more, something nasty and dark behind it.

"Cas."

He called out his name, half-hoping for him to not answer, half-hoping something else, something, something that gave a goddamn clue that he wasn't this mess, he wasn't this photogenic picture of the things he had done, something he couldn't name but was hell-bent in getting, something that was more than desire.

"Yes, Dean."

But of course, that wasn't it. Angels didn't sleep, he had been around one to know better, and what was he thinking?

He stirred in his sheets.

"Nah, just wanted to... just wanted to see if you were there."

"I'm here Dean. "

Dean felt a warm hand on his back.

"I'm here."

The nerve. Why did he have to sound like that, like old Cas, as if he's never been gone, never been broken, never been reduced to this heaping mess of anti-conflict insanity? The reassuring strength in his voice was both comforting and devastating. It was this, this very solid, real sense of familiarity that breached seamlessly into the illusion of the old Cas that drove him crazy. He missed old Cas, he missed him, and this, this version of Cas only reminded him that it was really over, he had reduced to a bookmark on a particularly fucked up page in his life. It broke him and left his insides shattered to pieces.

"Dean? You seem uncomfortable."

"I... No, Cas. I'm good. Now close your eyes."

"Dean, I..."

"No, just, just go to sleep. I'm fine."

Dean felt a warm arm around his waist. I'm here. The same, gravely voice whispered into his ear. He put a hand upon the one resting on his chest. The night fell, leaving the two in the dark.


End file.
